


Untitled for now

by alderberry, RittaPokie



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6398359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alderberry/pseuds/alderberry, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RittaPokie/pseuds/RittaPokie





	1. Necromancer's Final Wish

Velanril feels at home with the soft forest floor underfoot, she always has. She has friends, but prefers to be alone like this, just the breeze whispering through leaves above her head. She trails her hands across the branch of a tree much older than her as she ties a piece of cloth around it. Markers for her return trip. She has an excellent sense of direction anyway, but it never hurts to be careful.

The crack of twig catches her attention and she shifts to lay between the waves of tree roots as a Spring fawn prances from the brush in front of her. She watches it with rapt attention as its ears flick, shaking gnats from them. Its mother is close behind, bumping her head against the fawn's, scolding it for being so bold and reckless. The doe's eyes scan their surroundings nervously and then come to a halt when she meets Velanril's gaze. The raven's breath catches before the doe nudges her offspring along. She didn't perceive Velanril as an immediate threat, but she knows more elves could always be lurking close by. They aren't, but they could be.

The young elf lets out the breath she was holding and rolls onto her back, looking up through the canopy, glimpsing clouds as they pass. With the end of this wet season comes the time for the Hunt, and with the Hunt will come her vallaslin and her life path. She isn't certain she is ready for it, which is why she is venturing out now, to a special place that only she knows.

She hops to her feet after a few moments and dusts herself off. Looking around at the rugged paths the deer have carved in the grass, she smiles. The world is such a magical place, even without the abilities some of its sentient beings have. With a deep breath, she takes off sprinting in the direction of her hideaway. There is no real rush, simply a race with the air and time itself, just to feel wind and leaves whipping her face.

Four paces, three paces, two paces, and a leap over the brambles and onto an overgrown stone walkway. Finally, she is here. She wonders again what this place used to be, with broken spires not even visible above the tree line and tilted floor from a huge and gnarled tree pushing its way out from under the building. Perhaps a sort of temple, she thinks as she steps into the rippled light streaming through stained glass windows. The colors are faded blues and greens. The forest still seeks to take this place back, and it will, but for now it belongs to the raven.

Hooves tap across stone behind her and she turns in surprise. The doe and her fawn from before. Though now the deer meets her eyes with confidence. It nuzzles the fawn and waits for it to lay down before approaching Velanril cautiously. She bumps the elf's hand with her head before continuing into the structure and to a pile of rubble in the corner. She taps it with her front hooves and snuffles in the dust before turning and staring, unblinking, at the raven. 

"Is there something under there?" She asks. The deer is clearly being used by a spirit, but she does not fear it. Still, she moves warily when the doe huffs again and moves aside. Velanril draws energy from her hands and uses it to push the rocks aside, revealing a wooden trap door. "How has that not collapsed after all this time it was burdened?" She wonders at the doe, but the creature doesn't answer.

Curious, the raven lifts the door and descends the steep stairs beyond. Veilfire torches react to her magic as she enters the tomb underneath and light her path. At the far side of the rectangular chamber is a skeleton on an elegant throne. She hums, "Why have you brought me here?" Instead of an answer, she hears two sets of hooves trotting away. She supposes the spirit is done giving her direction. She has come this far, so she approaches the throne and the remains upon it.

The amulet in the skeleton's lap draws her attention first. The silver chain and setting are completely untarnished, making it look out of place in this setting, and the stone is a round blue jewel, swirling with depth beyond its constraints. Gingerly, she reaches out and touches the chain and then the stone. A chill jolts into her hand and to her wrist before is fades into a pleasing warmth, almost like...fear and then apology. She slips the amulet onto her neck, emboldened by the gentleness it reacted with.

There is a presence within it, she feels after putting the amulet on, but nothing violent, no immediate threat. She studies the robes the skeleton wears and the staff propped against the throne. "Enafim'ar." She reads the carving on the throne above the skull. "Why would I fear you?"

She feels a sense of wrongness and then the image of the staff appears to her firmly. "That is the name of it? Is it yours?" A floating sense of pride washes over her and then she feels excitement prickle her skin. "What do you want me to do with it?"

Memories pass before her eyes vividly as the spirit recounts the great feats it achieved with the staff. Details are hazy but the visions end with a strong sense of freedom. Perhaps the Exalted March with Andraste and then the claiming of the Dales, she thinks happily. It is clear to her that this spirit was a Mage, a necromancer. "I am fascinated by the magics with the dead as well." She says, amused. "I hope to study under my clan's Shaman of Falon'Din."

She is suddenly overwhelmed by the sense that the spirit wants her to have its things. To use and be a part of great things again, because such fine craftsmanship shouldn't go to waste, rotting in a tomb in the middle of nowhere. That a spirit has kept itself so full of life for so long is truly a feat. Though, necromancers feel differently about death than most. She feels the thoughts the spirit has been ruminating on during its solitude pass through her. It has been lonely, but not fruitless. So much time to think on the wonders of the world!

"But why were you not buried properly, with a tree over the grave?" A sudden sadness, followed by images of traveling with humans, some escaping Templar harassment, a tale she knows all too well. Near death, and then channelling its spirit into the stone. The humans had no knowledge of Dalish culture and the spirit had been too weak to give it.

"Then I will return with the Shaman, and give you the burial you deserve." Excitement prickles under her skin again and she feels sympathy for the spirit. Even though it is so full of life still, it has lived far too long and would welcome real death. It just had things to show the world still. Now it can, through her.

\---

"A necromancer's spirit, hm?" Ashiris ponders, their eyes full of awe. "Not many would choose such a way to live."

"I suppose it had things to share..." The raven shrugs. "So much of our history has been lost since Arlathan, perhaps it could not bear to lose anything else."

"It makes sense, and sounds like something _you_ would do." Ashiris chuckles. "And a spirit showed you this place?"

"No, just a new part of it." She admits. "I found the building years ago, but nothing of interest in it until now. I...wonder why the spirit showed me today."

"Perhaps because the Hunt is soon. The spirits in the area are very aware of us, and the veil is thin here." The Shaman smiles. "Or perhaps you have not been ready until now."

She feels the pleasant burn in her body again and smiles. "It is happy to be among elves again, it has been so long."

"You should be careful to wear that amulet so long, da'len." Theras sighs. "Benign spirit or no, they have a tendency to change."

"It thinks you are good to be cautious, Keeper." She nods. "I will be careful. I need to see the Master Hunter later to draw up some maps, but then I think the spirit will be ready to rest for good."

"Maps?" Ashiris perks up.

"Caches of treasures that the elves buried in the Dales, some in this forest... They may not all still be there, but if even one survived..." She sighs happily. "Anything will be a step in the right direction."

"Ma serannas." Ashiris says, nodding to the amulet, causing a rush of happiness in Velanril's head.

"What do we do with the robes and staff?" She asks.

"I think you should take them as a reward." Theras says, a small smile twitching at his lips. "As you said, if even one of these caches has survived, it could be the biggest discovery made in Dalish culture in centuries."

\---

With the remains safe in the ground but still uncovered, the raven builds an altar at the foot of the grave as the spirit instructs. The few elves that came with her to bury the necromancer have since gone back to their tasks and she is alone. She sets the amulet down on the altar, sad at the loss of her new friend but glad she can help it. She gathers energy in her veins until she feels lightheaded and quickly flicks a knife across her palm. As the blood touches the amulet, it shatters, blue pooling into her blood. One last image flashes into her mind, more vivid than all the others. A charcoal drawing on halla leather. Huge towering trees, crystal spires reaching up to the heavens. And _music_. A melody invades her, drumming against her skull with its volume. A song of _home, home, home_.

When she comes back to herself she finds that she fainted. She rubs the faint pain away with gentle fingers and healing magic at her temples. "What in blazes..." She whispers. Upon inspecting the amulet, she sees its contents no longer glow and are no longer liquid. Just thin shards of sapphire reflecting the moonlight. Her blood is also gone. She dusts the remains into her hand and sprinkles them into the grave, then drops the silver chain and setting in as well. "Rest, my friend."


	2. I Must Go

"The fade is...troubled." Theras says. "And I've this constant nagging headache. It's more than just the fade- I...I can't..."

"Vhenan, magic stirs in the very air around us." Ashiris says, "It has troubled me since we left the hot spring. Something was...wrong."

"The fade is thinner than I've ever felt..." the keeper says. "I've sent scouts to the cities that surround, perhaps they know."

"The Creators are no longer protecting us." Ashiris sighs. "We were abandoned long ago, but to abandon the fade as well....are they dead?"

"Ash, don't speak that way."

"We need to get their attention. Someone needs to bring them back to their duties, or...or replace them. We won't survive this way." They say, shaking their head. "Mages won't survive this way. We haven't had a possession in decades and we've just lost four to demons."

"Another?" Theras gasps. "There were only three just yesterday. When did this happen?"

"Hours have passed, vhenan. I loathe attending the funerals of the young. Only a child, this time."

"At this rate, we'll lose them all." Theras blinks back his tears. "Mythal's mercy, there must be something we can do..."

"We may need to use the cuffs again, on the weak ones." Ashiris says. "Until this is sorted." They add at Theras' horrified expression.

"I remember when Amallen did that, it was awful."

"To be stripped of your magic is awful, yes, but it was necessary. There was no one to train us but him and he could not see to us all at once." Ashiris sighs. "Even the shaman had no magic then."

"The worst time in our history." Theras says. "Unless this gets worse."

"It may." Ashiris puts their hand on the other's shoulder. "We must prepare to lose them, vhenan."

"No." Theras shakes his head doggedly. "No, I refuse to lose any more."

\---

"Two more!" Theras shouts to the sky. He had wandered away from the clan in their caves, into the freezing night. The snow was well past his knees but he trudged on until he reached a small peak overlooking the valley they would travel to in Spring. On a clear day, one could see their Vhenadahl on the horizon from this point. His body felt worn over with frost, but his anger at his gods fuels him. "What have we done that is so wrong? Why would you take six of our clan so suddenly?" he whispers into the dark air, his breath clouding out around him in the moonlight.

"Keeper?" Velanril's small, light voice reaches him. She comes to stand beside him, a torch in hand. "I'm sorry to bother, I just...it's the middle of winter, you shouldn't be out here."

"What's the point?" he spits, "What use am I as keeper if we lose everyone?"

"Keeper-"

"Stop calling me that! I don't deserve the title. I didn't earn it properly." He shouts. She flinches from his harshness, but he continues. "A dear friend of mine was Amallen's first, but she died to protect the clan, and the Keeper's second along with her. I was a last resort, and it shows. I've done poorly this entire time. My own daughter betrayed us and took away what was possibly the last dreamer we will ever have in this clan."

"All of this was beyond your control." She says, and holds the torch nearer to light their faces so she can meet his eyes. "You cannot control fate to make things easy for us. We face trials, we adapt, we survive."

He looks to the valley below them. "I have not even begun to train my first. Do you know why?" She shakes her head. "Because I am afraid to die. I am afraid to give in."

"You need not die, only step down." She says softly. "It is clear that this duty weighs heavily on you. You have served us long and better than you could know."

"I have lost everything and I lose more still." he says. "I see it coming and I can do nothing to keep it from happening."

"Come back with me." She says, "It is too cold for you to think."

\---

"Keeper, the scouts have returned." A young messanger says, nodding at the group of three who enter the cave with bundles of furs on their shoulders. "Should I fetch them now, or let them rest?"

"Bring them now. The information they carry is dire."

"Yes, Keeper."

\---

"The others found nothing, Keeper." A young but slightly weatherworn elf says, dusting snow from her pelts. Her voice is sharp but not unkind. "I went furthest east. To Orlais."

"So far?" He asks, surprised.

She nods curtly, "It is the center of the Human Chantry, I assumed they would have some clues." She shudders from the cold, rubbing her arms. "And my hunch was correct. They...they say that the sky has opened. Demons falling from something they call the Breach. Rifts in the fade are open across the land."

"Creators..."

"I encountered one, myself." She says.

"Shaelva, you did not face it alone, did you?" He asks, tone almost scolding.

"I fought some of the demons that poured from it in small groups, but it was unending, so I abandoned it." She shrugged. "I'm sure the group that went to fight the darkspawn is aware of all of this by now. I heard of Dalish elves in the Inquisition."

"Another Inquisition?"

"A different one. It isn't sanctioned by the Chantry." She says, "It's a huge thing, apparently. Someone was named the Herald of Andraste, and they supposedly can seal the rifts."

"They have power over the fade?"

"They command its very existence, Keeper." She nods. "The rifts opening can be controlled, by a singular person. Many people are saying they're blessed, touched by the Maker."

"If they can control the rifts, then this...this breach must've been deliberate."

"But why, Keeper? What purpose could this serve?"

"The last time this was done, the land was Blighted in return." He sighs. "I must speak with Tallis..."

"Keeper..." She mumbles as he walks away. He glances back at her. "It's happening, isn't it?" Her expression has lost all its hardness and disolved into terror. "The end. It's here, isn't it?"

"Do not worry, da'len." He says, but he can't unclench his jaw, can't reassure her properly.

\---

"We sent them away without this knowledge." Shaelva whines, "Arctos could be dead by now..."

"I doubt it." Velanril shakes her head. "He is far too stubborn to die, and has too much to live for."

"I worry for him...He has been my best friend since we were so young."

"What does your heart tell you?" Velanril asks.

The other is silent for a moment, and when she speaks again her voice is more confident. "That he is alive. Perhaps not entirely safe, but alive. That he will survive."

The raven haired elf nods, smiling. "There now. Rest, for you have served your clan well."

"You should be Keeper's first, not a shaman's apprentice."

Velanril chuckles. "No, no. While I may be good at reassuring others, I am no leader. I prefer to work from the shadows."

\---

"Keeper, Mentor." Velanril says, approaching the two. They're often together and she knew she would get an opportunity soon to ask them both at the same time. "I wish to take leave for my pilgrimage."

"It's the middle of winter!" Theras says.

"It is better further east." She says. "I wish to follow the Inquisition's progress. And to see what has become of Arctos and Gala."

"I-" Theras starts, but the other interrupts.

"I think it's a wonderful idea." Ashiris says, "Later into your training, it may not be possible for you to venture from the clan."

"You can't be serious. We've so few mages already." Theras says.

"Unfortunately for you, Theras, it isn't for you to decide." Ashiris says. "It is between a young elf and mentor. That she included you at all is merely because she is polite and respects you."

"It is no more dangerous for me there than it is here." Velanril says. "I will go with a group of hunters tomorrow to the closest village, from there I will secure travel to Haven. I've things to trade to get the coin. Crafts of my own from autumn."

"And what will you offer the Inquisition when you arrive?" Ashiris asks.

"Expertise on the fade, on demons and spirits, how best to protect themselves." She says. "Another perspective."

Ashiris nods. "You have thought this through, I see. I suppose there would be no detering you, should I even think to try."

"I must go, I can feel it." She says. "I am needed."

Ashiris steps forward and takes her head in their hands, kissing her forehead. "Be safe, da'len. There are dangers beyond the clan for mages and for witty young elves. Keep quiet and obeserve. Humans don't appreciate elves with sharp tongues."

Velanril nods. "I will be careful."


	3. Dear Fellow Traveller

As planned, the hunters say their goodbyes when they reach the nearest village to the east. At first, the raven haired elf is overwhelmed and terrified. She has never been away from her clan before at all, and definitely not so alone. She shifts the pack over her shoulder anyway, determined not to run home like a scared child, and ducks her head into the only shop in the village.

"Never seen you before." The shopkeeper says. The humans in the village are very used to elves trading here, and she wonders why the place itself hasn't grown with all the elven goods they get in. "Name?"

"Velanril." she answers quickly. "I have goods to trade?"

He steps behind the counter and beckons her with a wave of his hand. She briefly wonders if he will try to cheat her. "Let's see it."

She carefully lays out an assortment of charms and amulets that she had carved during autumn and winter out of various woods. Some even had precious stones. "I don't know the going prices for things." She admits.

"I figured." He chuckles. "I've no reason to short you. I make a good living here with your clan coming down to trade so often."

She nods. "Thank you."

"Any of this enchanted?" He asks, a slight suspicion in his voice, glancing at the staff on her back. She shifts on her feet, feeling the weight of it bounce against her shoulders.

"No, ser." She says. "I was waiting 'til spring."

He keeps his eyes on the staff but nods. She feels her blood run a bit colder, skin prickling. She has never been under such scrutinty before. "Right." he says. "I think...two sovereigns for it all?"

"Depends." She clears her throat. "How much is a carriage to Haven?"

"Mm..." He stokes his beard. "It's fifty silvers, I think. Maybe seventy. Less than what I'm offering, surely."

\---

She doesn't close the blinds even once as the carriage takes her over the countryside, not even to sleep overnight. The carriage picks up another traveller along the way. To Velanril's surprise, the traveller is another elf, about her age with snow white hair. She feels that she knows this elf, has seen her somewhere.

"Andaran atish'an." She says softly. "I... I beg your pardon, but I feel that I've seen you before. What clan are you from?"

The other thinks on it a second, and the raven can sense that she's being sized up. "Danae." She says. "And you?"

"Lathvhen. This is my first trip away from home..." she says. "It's all very exciting."

"I've heard of your clan." the snow haired elf says. "Where are you headed?"

"Haven, to offer my support to the Inquisition." Velanril says. "I'm curious to see this elven Herald of Andraste who weilds such power over rifts." she says.

"I am also going to Haven." She sounds just a bit surprised. "I didn't know other clans would be interested."

"Our mages are being possessed at an alarming rate. We've lost six already and the Keeper is wraught with despair." She shakes her head. "I'm hoping I can put those worries to rest, or end the madness before we lose them all."

"My clan is having similar problems." She sighs, but then perks. "Your vallaslin looks new."

"It is, I only got it last season." She beams with pride. "Along with my apprenticeship to Falon'din's shaman."

"Your clan doesn't send you out before you get it?"

"No, but only because our presence is needed for hunting before." She says. "I'm sure that, if that were not so, we would be sent out the same as many other clans. Is this part of your requirement for getting yours?" the other nods. "Interesting. Though your way is more common, it seems strange to me. My clan is isolated."

"Mine was until a few centuries ago." the other says. "But we're working on it."

"I am glad. Isolation leads to fear." Velanril nods. "The world is vast and we must work cooperatively with the others living in it to survive."

"I agree. And they need our help. Sometimes their ways are so...unreasonable."


	4. Desire

Too far now to get to the tangled roots of their tree, but not too far to look down upon it. She can imagine seeing the others playing in the shade, but she knows that it's likely just spirits acting in their stead, enjoying the memories. The dream wavers and she fights to hold it. She is no dreamer, she knows, so there must be a spirit-or demon-holding her here. After a moment, she feels the strain of holding the image and lets it slip away, the scene around her disolving and reforming into a different one. One she only glimpsed from the carriage. If she focuses, she can almost feel the bumps of rocks in the road.

"Good, a way to awaken." She says into the empty air as the ground shapes beneath her feet. She steps out of the way, walking on the coarse, greenish sand as grass sprouts behind her path and fills with small colorful wildflowers. This is not the exact area she saw, as it is winter and the feilds were covered in snow and not flowers. She had imagined that they would color with flora in spring and summer, but she isn't sure. They could be fields for farms. As she thinks this, the fade shifts to present her long golden wisps of wheat, fluttering in wind that had not been there before.

She smiles. This is clearly a curious spirit, and hardly a threat despite its obvious power. It only wants to see and feel what she has seen. She breathes and lets her thoughts wander freely, still keeping a careful gaze around herself, watching for demons that might destroy the gentle moment. She allows the spirit to enjoy her memories and imagination, allows it to shape its world to her thoughts.

The scene stutters and bristles into the dry, crackling void of the natural fade and her eyes snap open. Suddenly she is in the shade of the Vhenadahl, but the air is thick and hazed with unnatural purple-pink light. "Show yourself, desire." She says, unflinching. "You felt me wanting for my homeland."

The demon glides around the trunk of the tree, carefully stepping over the roots. Its skin appears soft and Velanril feels the urge to touch, but she knows better. "You know me." It says.

"I do, as I know most of your kind, if only by name." She says. "While I do desire to be here, I know I will eventually return."

"You could have this now." It says, voice like silk over her senses. "And you could have it forever."

"Pathetic." She says. "You think I would give up my freedom to have only nice things in life. It is struggle that makes these things feel so sweet. Being here without having earned it gives me no pleasure."

"Liar." It says, mouth curving into a sweet grin. "Careful, or you'll draw someone far worse than me."

"You dare to call me prideful?" She scoffs, "It is not pride that leads me to tell you that you have no power, but experience."

It saunters closer to her, running a taloned finger gently up her side and sliding it along the underside of her chin. Its face flutters, forming into the elf she knows she sits with in the carriage. "Is this what you want?" It asks when the form has settled. "Take her, while she is so close. She will not know."

"No, Desire." She says firmly. "Your attempts sicken me."

It laughs, "I'm barely trying, vhenan."

She tries to tug at consciousness, the bumping in the road, the chill of the air, but the demon bars her and she relents. "Do not corrupt my language with your foul tongue."

"Is it a corruption or an improvement?" It says, stepping further into her personal space.

"Fleeting attraction is not enough to tempt me." She builds a force in her mind and lets it loose, pushing the demon back and tripping it on the roots it created. It snarls, rising off the ground and shattering the scene back into the raw fade. "Fool." She says, pulling reality into her focus.

\---

The raven's eyes flutter open and she stretches, yawning. "Did you sleep well?" her traveling companion asks.

She flushes for a moment, the tempation still fresh in her mind, however small it was. She nods, clearing her throat to regain composure. "Relatively. A demon at the end, but a weak one. More of an annoyance than a threat."

"They feel brave with the fade so thin."

"The spirits as well." Velanril says thoughtfully. "I encountered a curious one as well, wanting for my imagination. I allowed it before the demon scared it away."

"Really? What was it showing you?"

"Things I've seen from the carriages. Places I would've liked to stop." She says. "My wanting for these places and the spirit's wanting for my thoughts drew Desire."

"I am glad it didn't trouble you too terribly."

"Ma serannas."


	5. Chapter 5

Maratheria kept a curious eye on the other. The young fox knew the workings of Lathvhen well enough due to interactions dating back generations and she was thankful for the sheer size of both clans keeping the other from recognizing her. Unable to place if she had seen her travelling companion at any of the formidably sized gatherings she dismissed much worry. To hear that Lathvhen was also experiencing the same difficulties troubled her deeply however. They where a clan known for their strength in the fade, this breach which had reached Shraeei's ears much be dire indeed to effect both clans in such a manner.

  
She was happy to have someone to converse with while traveling, and a fellow mage no less even if she herself kept her abilities hidden. She had traded in her usual staff before leaving for a bow; a focusing crystal imbedded into the grip and disguised with copper inlays branching from it's core for if it took more than arrows to discourage any threats. She hoped it's use would be limited other than for hunting as her skill in archery was more academic than practice. Her robes replaced with the light armor worn by her clans hunters, light enough it wouldn't hinder the young mages movements yet still more constricting than she was used to.

  
"You're clan, they have a home range correct? I remember the traveling keepers telling us tales of how large you are." Watching for the others reaction. "I can't even imagine traveling in a clan that large..." the awe in her voice only slightly act.

  
Her own clan reached easy one thousand strong, but they no longer roamed but had built a permanent home in the mountains West of the Tirashan but sent bands out ranging from individuals to that of several dozen to gather information and act as the eyes and ears of Shraeei. As the Keepers first and daughter she had never known the nomadic life.

  
"We aren't nomadic in the sense that smaller clans are but we do migrate throughout the year. Visiting our holy places or following the herds." Velanril explains.

  
"It must be something to see." Mara smiles at the thought.

  
"How large is Danae?" Velanril asks.

  
"... there are only forty or so left. The last few winters have been harsh and there was a.. disagreement with another clan." She chose her words carefully, telling the tale from the view of the clan whose name she had given to the other.

  
"Disagreement?"

  
"We were given the clans Keepers first born for our Keepers second, we... lost him." She remembered well the day her father had heard the news. He had remained calm, dangerously so. When he had confirmed that his son and eldest child had been driven from Danae he let them know his displeasure.

  
"Lost him?"

  
"He left. When the clan found out... they were upset. Rightfully so I suppose. He was a very promising mage and had been left in our care. " Mara sighs. "So, there was a disagreement. We were lucky to remain as many as were are as it stands..we used to be near eighty."

  
"What clan was this that would do such a thing?" Concern knitting her brow. Velanril knew many clans would end up in conflict with each other but to kill so many over one?

  
"Shraeei'inan" the fox lets the name of her clan's eyes fall from her lips grimly. If the other was truly from Lathvhen she would know the name, and possible implications brought with crossing them. Danae had been lucky to remain with forty members living.


	6. Chapter 6

Aether Shraiee peered into the Eluvian, it lie dormant. It had for centuries like near everything else in the ancient temple which created Shraiee'vhenanan, the heart of Clan Shraiee. Yet the mirror haunted his thoughts of late with the veil shifting and tearing in places. In his dreams the mirror shimmered with life as wolves and ravens picked the bones of the dead. 

Moving beyond the Eluvian Aether descended the narrow passage which wound itself into the earth. The way remained unilluminated, those making the journey to the truth much first travel through the dark.. he knew the stone beneath his feet well and each imperfection of the wall his fingertips brushed upon. He needed no light in order to see.

The passage opened into an ante-chamber lit by veil fire churning in the tree shaped sconce in the center. The lyrium veins peaking from the walls glinting in glistening with their own light. One of the keepers approached.

"Welcome, Da'len." their voice as devoid of emotion as the faceless mask they wore. 

"I come to seek the truth within the earth." Aether responds. The keepers of knowledge had always unnerved him since he was a child and still tightened the base of his spine he was never able to pinpoint the precise reasoning for the very thought of being like them, devoid of emotion and broken from the fade, terrified him. They served the clan well however, and the knowledge given to them could not be twisted unless given to them in such a way. The fact that most had voluntarily sought such a life baffled Aether.

He was stripped of his clothing and given a plain robe and a mask himself and he slipped them on. Within the hallowed halls all were equal. The keeper then lead him from the ante-chamber further down into the earth they passed through another chamber, larger. Within its center a vein of lyrium large enough to claim as a vhendahl grew and branched seeking new earth. He could feel it's power, almost hear its song. It pulsated as a living breathing thing and he slowed to marvel at it as he always did. Dark movement caught his eye and his gaze shifts to the one tending the vein. The man was unmasked, he was not of the devout who gave his life to Dirtha'men like the keepers but his connection to the beyond had been severed forcible and now he belonged to the creators. He bored the Vallaslin of Dirtha'men so it was fitting that he tended this temple.

A curl of a smile behind Aether's mask as he recognizes the unmasked figure. The man had once been proud, had once lead a Clan himself until they had crossed Shraiee. Aether's eldest child was lost due to the action of the man and the clan he had come to lead through betrayal. The small feeling of satisfaction was fleeting however when he noted the task the man was busy with. Red streaks had begun staining the vein like a blood infection. The corrupted streaks sang in disharmony and brought dread along with them. The unmasked had been given the duty of chiseling the infection from the lyrium... it had not been that long since the last streak had appeared and it did not bode well in Aether's mind. 

Aether quickens his pace to catch up to his guide who had come to stand next to the next passage. The keeper pushed aside heavy curtains of cloth and the heavily incensed air struck Aether. It was sickeningly sweet and stuck to one's body for days.

They move to the small pool in the next chamber where Aether kneels filling an intricately carved clay jug with the waters before moving to the alter on a raised dais. Kneeling again he fills the silver bowl on the alter with the water meditating on his questions as he added the herbs and lyrium to the mixture. He then drinks deeply, the lyrium heating his stomach before spreading out into a dull warmth. He could hear it's song clearer now. Standing he replaces the jug by the pool before his guide shows him to the small alcove he would spend his time in. Calling the space and alcove was generous, as it was the size of a grave. Just long enough for one to lay in with only a few feet above one's body. Once in place his keeper places a heavy curtain over the small space completely entombing the man.

The drought from the ritual worked fast, his mind finding the lyriums song and following the notes. His body was heavy as though it could sink into the stone beneath him. Aether kept the question of his dreams in his mind, trying to push aside his other worries, the red veins, the thinning veil. Today he sought answers for the Eluvian. 

****

"You worry too much, vhenan." He says softly, lacing his arm around his beloved waist and nuzzling her hair which spilled like fire over her shoulders. 

"But what if there is something to Lathvhen's superstitions." Juna says softly, leaning into them as she held their swaddled child in her arms. The babe was small and rarely fussed, her sisters children had been much more boisterous even as newborns. 

He chuckles deep in his throat "Shall we send Toren away? Or come winter dip his feet in the blood of an abomination?" 

"Do not mock them, my love. They're ways may be different than ours but they are still our strongest ally." Juna scolds.

He laughs again as the wolf jumps from her arms. Large and white furred, five lavender eyes laughing as it looks back, beckoning Aether to follow.

He does as bid, leaving his room behind to follow the beast which travelled through blood soaked battle fields. Ravens flocked over head, screaming into the rift which threatened to swallow the sky or feasted on the corpses which lie at their feet.

The wolf stops in front of the Eluvian the mirror ripping and reflecting back spiralling towers of crystal. Aether approaches the mirror reaching out he could feel the hum of magic radiating from it. A figure stood on the other side but he could not see who or what it was. 

"Fen'Harel enansal." The wolf speaks, the imagery in the mirror falling to the ground in shards revealing the labyrinth behind.

Aether steps through the frame the world around warping and pulling apart before reforming into a vast plain. Walkways and light hung in the air leading to Eluvians long dead but for one framed in a stone portrayal of Mythal her wings stretched out proudly her dragonic head held high as it cracked and tumbled to the ground. The wolf appeared beside Aether once more beckoning him to follow as it padded to the new Eluvian it looks to the pile of stone that was once the mothers head and lets out a long low howl filled with sorrow which echoes through the empty space until it encompassed even the beating hum of lyrium. The man fell to his knee's tears spilling from his eyes until the robes he wore were stained red.

The images fell shifting, melting, shaping to the raw fade yet the wolf remained. 

"Where will you stand when your own blood rises against you, Keeper Aether of Shraiee. Will the love for the people stand beside you or will you stand alone?" 

He wakes. The song of lyrium gone from his veins. Aether remained in the small alcove letting the darkness of it swallow him as he thought over the images shown and words spoken. The imagery of his first born giving him a clear path of where to go... He would have to contact Lathvhen.


	7. One of the Lost

The raven steps from the carriage with her travelling companion. Her offer to pay for both of them is politely refused, but the snow-haired elf gives her a small smile in thanks. The part ways to explore the town after making their presence known to the Inquisition. Velanril wanders uphill from the tavern and nearly runs into an elven woman with pale blonde hair and striking sky blue eyes. Her face scrunches in recognition for a moment before the other clears her throat.

"Is there something I can help you with?" She asks, her voice crackles like fire in a hearth, possibly hoarse from smoking the pipe strapped to her hip. "Da'len." She says, smirking a bit, when Velanril shakes herself from staring.

"I've never been from home before..." She admits sheepishly. "It's...painfully obvious isn't it?"

The other nods. "Welcome to Haven. My name is Ilo, and yours is?"

"Velanril." She says, "Uh, actually, I think you can help me with something. I'd like to take a closer look at the Breach. Do you know who could take me closer?"

"Possibly Cassandra. Outside the gates in the training field is where she'll be." She points in the direction. "Ask nicely."

"Thank you."

\---

Seeker Cassandra, as Velanril had heard a recruit call her, leads the raven farther up the mountain pass and closer to the breach. She doesn't seem overly thrilled by it, but does it nonetheless. "I will not be long." She reassures the woman, stepping down into the ashes of their temple. She feels deeply sympathetic for the humans for losing what was obviously a sacred space. So many pilgrims are still in the village. People who possessed no skills of note and yet still traveled far and wide to come here, to see this.

"You said you had some expertise with things like this." Cassandra says. "Have you spoken with Solas?"

"I only just arrived, but thank you for the suggestion." She stares up into the swirling green sky, wind whipping at her face. Echoes of the events at the temple come as garbled whispers, incomprehensible. She imagines that the rift they said had opened underneat would've allowed such noise to come into the world more clearly, but it is closed now so she doesn't dwell. Further into the temple, a faint and sinister hissing rings her ears and her head throbs with pain. She blinks the agony away to see ahead of her, and her vision is met with red jutting from cracks in the ash. She shakes herself free of its song as best she can and vaults a low wall to land in the deepest recesses of the temple.

Over her shoulder, she can see the Seeker watching her carefully. She gives a small smile to reassure the other that she has no bad intention, but Cassandra doesn't respond. She breathes deeply and relaxes her arms at her sides, staring upwards into the breach. The magic around her besides the red lyrium feels oddly familiar. She knows she will get more when she sleeps and dreams in Haven than she is now, so she follows the path she used to get down back up to the Seeker. She nods at Cassandra, indicating that she is finished.

\---

She sits in the shadow of a wiry sort of tree with a few colored leaves hanging onto its branches. So few of the trees in her homeland lose their leaves in fall, most of them being evergreens. She sighs, massaging her temples, nursing away the shrill sound that the red lyrium left in her head. She had known very little about it before coming to Haven. It was even somewhat of a myth to her clan. Now, it was a widespread topic of conversation. Mentions of corruption in Kirkwall, a place she had also scarcely heard of.

Worn out from the day's efforts, she drifts into a light sleep, allowing the fade to pull on her. Spirits and demons are swarming the area and it takes a while for one to settle her into its domain. The chill under her skin tells her that Despair is nearby, but she knows immediately she is not within its domain, only that it is trying to invade. She stumbles on the shifting ground as she tries to follow the glow that immediately caught her eye. It gives a slight chase, obviously not accustomed to the interaction, but it is curious and eventually comes to hand on a cragged rock jutting from a cliffside, just out of her reach.

"What can you tell me?" She asks, and the glow sways uncertainly and then reforms the ground into the floor of the temple. The events of what happened are scattered and obviously out of order. A darkened figure appears briefly, their words muffled by the spirit's lack of full knowledge and then the scene fades entirely. "You don't know, do you."

"No." It speaks. "Despair stole the memories."

"As it will do." She sighs. There will be no answers, only questions.

"I can show you something else you wish to know." It says. And shifts into a slightly messy form of the blonde elf the raven saw earlier. Velanril is sure that the face isn't all right, but the eyes are a perfect match. "They are what you recognize." It says, answering a question she did not ask. Then, it forms in a more stable match of Lathvhen's keeper, the eyes unchanging. "You have seen them before, perhaps every day."

Velanril feels her blood run ice cold and she stumbles backwards. The spirit lets go of the forged forms and follows her, unsure of where it went wrong. The raven feels her breathing accelerate, breath puffing out in cold clouds.

She is jolted from her slumber by the aching burn in her fingers from the cold she had cast in her sleep. Rubbing her hands together, she scolds herself for losing control. "I'm too old to be letting my dreams use my magic like this." She grumbles.

All at once, the dream returns to her, the eyes, and she feels her skin prickle from fear. Could this be one of Theras' line? She remembers what the keeper admitted to her on the mountain before she left. That his daughter betrayed them. Which meant that she bore a fen child. Could this elf be one of the descendants of that child? And she's here when the world is being rended apart.


	8. Chapter 8

She watched her dark haired travelling companion head out into Haven admiring how self assured the young woman seemed to be. Maratheria herself remained where they had parted ways. Her hands on her hips as she thought of what to do. She wanted to see the breach, of course. But did not want to do her inspection under the watchful eyes of anyone. For now, she stared up at it biting her lip in determination. Who would she even ask to speak too? Mara suddenly felt very foolish for not staying with her travelling companion. 

She grit her teeth and marched towards the gates easily becoming distracted however, watching the activity in the small town and didn't notice the smirking blond elf until she nearly ran into her.

"Another one?" The older woman says trying not to laugh. "Did you get separated from your friend then, da'len? I sent her over to Cassandra." nodding in the direction of the Seekers usual location.

"I. We have different goals at the moment." Mara states smoothing herself out. 

"Oh? Well you both seemed pretty keen on running me over." 

Mara clenches her jaw, looking the woman over. She wasn't much older, but old enough to be able to put the younger in her place if needed. The ease of her stance told that fact easily enough. She shifted her weight subconsciously the weight of the bow on her back was not equal to her staff and it left her feeling vulnerable.

"I am sorry. I... How would I go about meeting this Herald of Andraste? I hear he is Dalish himself?" with no one else to ask it might as well be the obviously Dalish woman before her. She could hazard a guess that she was from his clan, she couldn't imagine to many clans sending their own into the heart of human lands next to a tear in the sky. Her own and Lathvhen aside... most had more sense when it came to dealing with the beyond. 

"You travelled all this way just to meet Aurin?" a bemused smile cracks the woman's face. "I'm not sure if he'd be honoured or hide even deeper knowing his fames gone so far." 

Mara was less amused than she at the joke. "Is this a thing I can do or not?" Crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

"no need to get your smalls in a bunch, da'len. Of course you can meet him. If he was around.. he tends to vanish off into the woods as often as he can. Until he gets back, you can tag along with me. My name is Ilo, and yours is?" 

"I am Maratheria Danae. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ilo." Offering her own introduction

"Oh, so proper. Solas will like you." the smirk remained on her lips for a second longer as she motions with her head for the younger to follow as she headed up a pathway.


	9. Beliefs and Perspectives

"Shaman Tallis..." Shaelva says, stepping into his aravel. The shaman is sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by open books and scattered pages. "Might I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course." He says, stacking the pages that had been in his lap and standing. "Walk with me, I could use the fresh air."

She nods and let him lead her onwards. The day is a bit unseasonably warm, though it is still very cold. He takes her to a peak along an uneven path from the cave they take shelter in during winter. The spot overlooks the valley they would travel to in Spring, the Vhenadahl poking over the top of the fog. She breathes deeply, taking in the serenity.

"What was it you wished of me?" He asks, bringing her back to the present. She had almost forgotten in the peace of the view.

"I...Have you ever regretted the path you chose?" She asks bluntly. "You can't bond, you never received vallaslin. It's almost as if you're not part of the clan at all."

"It has been trying at times." He admits. "I have never regretted it. My station offers me a perspective on the world that few have known."

"What is this perspective?"

"To see the world as it is, free of morality. Everything has a nature. The trees, the animals we hunt, the very land on which we live." He answers. "That we are no different, we are no higher than any other thing in this world."

"So, we have a nature, it is who we are." She says, "We cannot choose this about ourselves."

"Nature can change, must change." He says, something of a warning to his voice. "All things shift and adapt to their surroundings. If they do not, they perish. Our ancestors made the mistake of simply waiting out the tide of the world, trying to survive it as if it were a storm. It was a call for change, and they did nothing. It cost them the Dales. Is there a reason you called on me to discuss my station?"

"I..." Her face twists in pain. "I am questioning things..."

"What sort of things?"

"The Creators." She admits, a relieved sigh falling from her lips as she lets the weight off her chest. "You just seem so sure of things, as if you know precisely how everything will go."

He smiles. "You flatter me. No, da'len, it is not that I know what will happen, it is that I know however it does happen, we have all the tools we need to overcome it. We need only use them."

"Was there ever a time you questioned your belief in the Creators?" She asks.

"Yes." He answers. "And I left the experience with completely different beliefs."

"Oh?"

"That the Creators were never more than us, not really. They achieved great things, but were only elves who happened to be very powerful. If they were gods, if they were truly superior, Fen'Harel would not exist at all." He says. "He is their mistake, and he will correct their other mistakes with catastrophic results."

"Could he not be half-god?"

"I suppose he could." He nods. "The simple fact that I believe something doesn't make it true, da'len. It could be as you see it. He could bear the power of the gods, but none of their favor, thus anything he tries goes awry."

"You have given me something to think on, Shaman. Ma serannas." She bows her head and takes her leave.


	10. Wolves

"The Magisters are set to arrive any day now." Allan sighs. "I will not be able to maintain this disguise...trading Templars for Tevinter, what was she thinking..."

"Is that _true_? Maker's breath, I was hoping it was a rumor!" Belle gasps, a hand over her mouth. "We cannot stay here."

"You do not have a choice. You have been sold." the brunet shakes his head. "We had come so far, and now this... Right back where we started."

"Leave with me." She says. "We will go now to- somewhere."

"You are not free anywhere." He says. "I worry you will never be free. All those we lost in this fight. It has been for nothing."

"It has _not_  been for nothing! Leave with me!"

\---

She finds herself in worn robes traveling the Hinterlands, _alone,_  because Allan has given up hope. She supposes that he is more jaded than she is, being quite a bit older, having lost so much. She did not want to leave the man behind. Because he is a friend, and has protected her despite being a Templar, but also because she has _no_ practical combat training. If she runs into Tempars, what will she do?

Almost on cue, she hears speaking beyond the fog ahead of her, as well as the clank of armor on walking bodies. With a soft gasp, she slips into the forest, not bothering to look back. It's not until she trips on tree roots that she realizes _perhaps_ she has made a mistake. Still, it is too late to go back and she does not know where she is anyway, so she presses on.

Her mind drifts as she walks, head thrumming when she glances to the sky where the breach is barely visible through the leaves. She wonders what became of her siblings, of Connor and Constance especially. Whether they joined the Templars in purging the Mages. She can't imagine either of them being so cold and ruthless as the Templars she has seen since leaving Ostwick. Before, in the safety of the tower, she couldn't imagine _why_ Mages would rebel, but _now_... The fellow Mages she has met farther South have told such _terrible_ tales. So has Allan, being a Templar from further South. He told her of when he was younger and afraid of his superiors, and how he regrets not fighting them sooner. He told her that there were some Templars who were slaves as well, and had a choice between looking the other way or having their lives destroyed. 

A feral growl breaks her thoughts, and she turns at the crack of a limb underfoot, locking her gaze with the glowing green eyes of a wolf. They both stand absolutely still and Belle barely breathes until two more rustle the brush and emerge, snarling, their fur standing on end. She remarks how beautiful wolves are up close before one lunges and she yelps and breaks into a sprint, weaving through the trees with less efficiency than they do. She knows they are gaining on her, but what else can she do but run? With her luck, if she lets off a spell, she'll run face first into a crowd of Templars and be slaughtered anyway.

She trips again, landing with a thud on the ground. The trees had thinned into a clearing without her notice and she can see smoke billowing from chimneys over shallow hills, but they are too far for anyone to hear her calling for help, so she does not expend the energy. She stumbles to her feet and hauls herself up onto a ledge, scraping her hands on the jagged rocks, the wolves nipping at her heels quite literally.

Even though her breathing is heavy and ragged from the run, she scrambles for purchase on the slope to pull herself onto a higher ledge because, with a proper start and enough speed, the wolves would definitely be able to reach her. They make several attempts to leap onto her perch once she is up higher, but their claws scratch against the stone and slip off. Rather than admitting defeat, the first one she saw sits and stares up at her, unblinking. She feels eerily as though it is making eye contact, telling her that she must come down _eventually_. The other two try a few more times before laying down next to their obvious leader, panting with effort.

She _will_ have to come down eventually.


End file.
